And With the World We'll Go
by BetsunoNeko
Summary: That day a name he'd never thought he'd hear again returned. He absolutely had to know how she, on her first day here, could possibly know that name. The name "Thorn" which everyone else had seemed to have forgotten, the memories taken as he, the only friend he'd ever have, left. But the driver of the car, when his eyes met his, there was no doubt. Damien had returned. DIP
1. That Name

**And With the World We'll Go**

I

I couldn't breathe. It was like the air had been sucked out of me completely, drained entirely from my lungs with one swoop and I couldn't breathe. I sat there like a fool, eyes trained on that person standing at the front of the class and I couldn't breathe. The situation was so familiar, the darkness that radiated off of the porcelain white skin, the fire that seemed to brew in cold eyes, yes, it was so familiar but at the same time not. Regardless, I was still stunned and breathless and oblivious to my trauma, the teacher continued.

"Alright, this, students, is your new class mate…" the woman with slightly greying hair bends a little to read something off of a list, her glasses sliding down her nose. "… Lucy?"

The girl is short but not by a vast amount and is incredibly thin and bony. She has long fingers and a glare of consistent apathy and an ink black hair that stops about midway down her back, untamed and windblown. There are streaks of red-ish orange every so often in the long bangs that seem to fall across her haunting grey eyes. Under those eyes are purple bags that reveal many sleepless nights and her clothing is also almost entirely black. She has an oversized black hoodie with grey draw strings and a gaunt design of tattered wings on the back. The sleeves are fitted with thumb holes from which her thin fingers protrude, revealing lacquered and unnaturally sharp black nails. Her shorts are grey and a little too tight and it's baffling how she can wear such a thing in the dead of winter. She has ornate and painful-looking knee-high boots, also black. Everything about her, upon instantly hearing her name, takes on the name of the girl making everything from her movements to her skin tone to her clothing _Lucy. _

She's no longer a nameless face dressed like the scary kids that smoke behind the school, but a new being of her own type. _Lucy. _The name rings out like a gunshot in my head. I can't shake the feeling I've done this before. I can't shake the feeling I've been through this before. I can't shake the feeling that this girl carries that's just so familiar.

The teacher glances down at her list again. "Why don't you tell the class a little about yourself, Lucy?" Her grey eyes scan the room with blatant disinterest that flows off of her like a fog. Those hollow eyes in that gaunt face sweep across the class room from top to bottom until-

They narrow. For a fraction of a second there is an emotion there. Her eyes narrow and I realize she's looking at someone. It takes me a moment to figure out who.

Me. She's looking right at me. Then there's this faint, just barely noticeable tip of her head downwards as if she's nodding at me. The teacher takes it as a response to her question.

"Well go on then dear, no need to be shy."

The girl inhales deeply through her nose and finally, to my relief, her eyes leave mine. She stares out into the class as she speaks. "I'm here for a purpose. Anyone who impedes my purpose or in any way hinders me will be struck down into the fires of hell swiftly and with the utmost severity. Nice to meet you all."

The class is stunned into a breathless silence like the one I had experienced the moment she walked inside. Then there is a guttural laugh of a shrill and obnoxious tone. Eric Cartman. My tormenter since childhood. I can only pray for this girl that she's prepared for what's about to come her way. The stocky and tall and thickly built brown haired teen leans forward over his desk, pointing at her and laughing as crudely as possible. Her eyes find his, but seemingly her gaze travels over him, as if she's not even watching or acknowledging his existence.

"Excuse me, bitch? I'm not taking orders from any anorexic emo dy-," Suddenly, in the time it takes to blink an eye, maybe less, Lucy is hovering over Eric Cartman's desk. Her eyes are trained with the same apathy into his right temple, as if willing it to burst spontaneously. From his position sitting and her slightly elevated stance, she's gazing down upon him. She seems to realize this too.

A smirk unlike anything I've ever seen spreads across pale lips. They part, revealing sharp incisors and a mouth the shade of a deep crimson red. Mouths shouldn't be that color. From her position relatively close to me I can smell the scent that radiates off of her. Sulfur. Copper. Cinnamon. I can't breathe.

"I quite like school," she says breathily, "such an adventure already." Her tongue flicks out of her mouth and licks at the corner of her mouth. "Dame was stupid to give this job to me. His loss." Cartman's face visibly drains of all color. He freezes. In the heavy silence Lucy straightens herself up and takes a seat in the only empty desk in the class. Behind me.

My mouth is dry. I can't breathe. _Dame? _This is too much. Why does Lucy want to make me throw up? This is too much.

No one says a word to the girl all day, not even the teachers. She sits quietly behind me all period until we're dismissed to the next. I stand slowly and wait for all the other students to exit before I do. It's easier that way and ensures I won't be run down in either eagerness to flee or bloodlust or a combination of both.

A cold hand, freezing cold hand, _corpse _cold hand taps my right shoulder gently as I reach for the door handle. I stifle a yelp. Slowly, I swallow my increasingly dry mouth and turn. Behind me, slightly hunched over, is Lucy with her hands deep in her pockets and one white ear bud hanging out of her left ear.

"C-Can I help you?" I manage to croak out weakly but as politely as I can.

She cracks a tiny smile at this but it looks more like a sneer. "Not yet, hun', not yet. So eager, aren't you?" Lucy chuckles lightly at this. Her laugh has no humor in it. It's dead. "Just thought I'd introduce myself properly, ya' know?" Her eyes flicker like a candle as she extends a hand. I reach out tentatively and shake it.

Despite the fabric around her palm, her hand still manages to be startlingly cold, deathly cold. "Phillip Pipirup, pleasure to meet you." I tell her. "Everyone calls me Pip, though."

"Pip." She repeats, as if tasting the name as she shakes my hand a little. "Nice to meet you, Pip. I'm Lucy Thorn." My breath hitches. She lets my hand drop with a venomous smirk on her too-pale face as she walks past me without another word. I hear the door open. I don't move. I hear it begin to close until it stops on something. "I've heard _so _much about you." The door closes and the classroom is empty and silent.

I can't breathe.


	2. My Mistake

**A/N: **_New story because I'm avoiding updating my other stuff. Yay~! My first time at writing DIP... I love them together and hope this doesn't suck. I know OC's get a little obnoxious some times but Lucy is a key-character. A lot of this chapter is boring back story so sorry for that but it's all important stuff! The chapters will get longer soon and I'll start to really get into the story too!_

_Thanks to HappyNoodleGirl666 and Guest for the reviews_

*I don't own South Park but if I did I would be soooo happy...

* * *

II

**Damien's pov.-**  


This is obnoxious. I want to leave right now, but I can't.

God damn it Lucy can be so slow some times and she does it just to piss me off. I roll down the window of the black sedan and lean my elbow out into the freezing winter air. It's a change from the temperatures I'm used to and it's nice. This building… I hate it. Too many bad memories. Teenagers from my age group and younger flood out of glass double doors down a tall brick staircase outside of a sickly yellow school building. It looks like the elementary school.

I hate that place.

Lucy, hurry it up or I will kick your ass back to hell. Bored, I flick through radio channels. Metal blasts out of the stereo. I turn it up. It drowns everything out.

People are staring at my car now. Let them. Then I see her. She walks extra slow, undoubtedly just to upset me more. Lucy can be a bitch most of the time. She reaches the end of the school parking lot and pulls open the passenger side door.

She has three emotions. One; apathy. Two; complete and utter rage. Three; she dawns the most shit eating grin in the history of the world and acts as though she has just discovered your dirtiest secret. The second she closes the door, default emotion three spreads across her features. She pulls down her hood and I roll up the window, pulling out of the parking lot a little too fast.

"What?" I hiss at her. She giggles with her usual nasty flare. "What?" I repeat harshly.

"School is fun, Dame. Not sure why you decided to get a job instead…" Lucy snickers, drumming her fingers against the cold glass of the car window.

"Don't call me that," I snap. She scoffs playfully before turning to look at me with that smirk I hate so much. "What?" I almost shout. Lucy has this way of absolutely testing the boundaries of my patience.

"I met this boy in my class today…" _Oh God please don't involve me in your sex life, Lucy. _"… Blonde, short, blue eyes…" she trails off, looking out the window. I feel something tighten in my chest. "… Weird first name… oh, and get this, he's _British!"_ I slam on the brake so hard the car jolts forward and she smacks her head painfully against the window. "_Fuck!" _She shouts at me. "The living hell, Damien!?"

I swerve the car violently and pull over, glaring daggers at her, fire heating my eyes. She crosses her arms and scowls just as darkly.

"What the hell did you do?" I warn in the darkest voice I have.

"Jesus, you'd think you know the kid- wait… you _do, _don't you?" I tighten my jaw and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to ignite her hair. Her smirk returns. "Oh, that's right… when you were nine and after Daddy let you come to the surface and you went to elementary school here, and all you talked about for months after you came back was, 'my friend this', 'my friend that'. You were so proud of yourself for making a friend and then you blew him up-…" she stops abruptly and trails off, sighing deeply and staring at the mountains ahead of us.

I clench my jaw so tightly I think I draw blood from my own mouth. My hands whiten around the steering wheel. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Lucy is smiling. She's getting such a rise out of this I can't _believe _her.

"What did you do?" I hiss out, cringing at the venom I've put into my own words. She turns to me, eyes ablaze with the pure joy of pissing me off and an ear to ear smirk spreads across her face.

She raises one of her extremely pale hands to cover her Cheshire grin like a sheepish girl in some cheesy tv drama. "Wouldn't you like to know?" comes purring out of her mouth, followed by a giggle that feigns anything but innocence.

The metal cross hanging upside-down from the rear-view mirror bursts suddenly into flames. Lucy jumps visibly and her expression darkens. I'm almost shaking with rage at this point.

"Sheesh, Dame, calm down for Satan's sake," she jokes.

"Fuck Dad!" I nearly scream.

"Oh, I'm sure you'd like to," Lucy jokes suggestively.

"Fuck you, you little pervert!" Lucy bursts into laughter at that point, giggling hysterically like a typical blonde cheerleader even though that's about as far from the truth as possible.

"Oh man, you're _face!_" She manages to mock between bursts of laughter.

"What. Did. You. Do?" I warn darkly, turning to face her completely. She sighs, expression faltering to something exasperated. Rolling her eyes and flicking some hair out of her face she relaxes back into the seat. Sometimes I wonder if she's bipolar. Her emotions change at the drop of a hat and she's always so high strung.

"Just kinda' casually dropped the family name, nothin' big," Lucy says seeming almost bored before reaching into the glove box and pulling out a cigarette. She extends it out to me. "Light it for me, huh big bro?"

"Do it yourself you little bitch. You dropped the _family name_? Are you out of your fucking mind?" Sighing I watch her snap her fingers and bring the now burning cigarette to her lips.

"Please, Dame. You know I never had a mind in the first place to be out of," she says casually again, turning up the volume on the radio station which is now playing some obscure metal song with a lot of screaming. I smack the volume dial button so hard the radio instantly silences. She glares at me. "I was listening to that you prick!"

"Well?" I resist the urge to punch her in the nose. Lucy looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to elaborate. "_Well?!_" She rolls her eyes again and blows a plume of smoke right in my face.

"I don't read minds, Dame, so can you tell me what the fuck your problem is?" In a fit of rage I snatch the cigarette out of her mouth and throw it out the window. Her expression darkens and she seethes quietly. I hate it when she smokes.

"My _problem _is that you decide that because you like to annoy me you're going to go to a kid that knows what we are and just casually drop the family name to him so you can get a rise out of me. That is what my damn problem is, Lucy. What did he do?"

"Aw… Damien is _concerned _for a _human! _How _adorable!" _She drawls.

"I'm not fucking _concerned!" _

"Fine, fine." She sighs. "He passed out." She snaps her fingers, watching a few tiny sparks fly.

"And…?" Lucy raises an eyebrow. I groan. "What did you do after that?"

"I went to art class," she states like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I pinch the bridge of my nose and slam my forehead against the steering wheel, causing the horn to let out a loud and sharp _beep. _"Any news from back home?" She asks causally but I can hear a faint undertone of worry in her voice. I pull back onto the road and turn the radio back on but at a reasonable volume.

"Thankfully no." Lucy nods in a sort of quiet contemplation.

I have a lot of siblings, all half-siblings to be specific. The last time I counted it was around twenty or thirty something. I hate all of them. Every single one is either completely bat shit crazy, have a deep need to want to kill me so they can take my roll as the Anti-Christ, or are just obnoxious. Lucy is the later. We're only a year apart in age, me at sixteen and her at fifteen. Instead of either ignoring or igniting her like I do to my other siblings, she kinda' grew on me. Unlike most of my brothers and sisters who all have a specific biblical role as children of Satan, Lucy never really had one. She was always just kinda there as background or something cast aside. As I'm the Anti-Christ, Lucy is supposedly a "death god".

It's a myth that typically comes from Japan or some Eastern culture that states death gods are the missionaries of death that come to lead you to your grave or tempt you to die. Apparently she's the counterpart to death, but nothing ever really seemed to come of her "destiny", as father likes to call it. He said she wasn't skilled enough or "up to the challenge". Either way, it just didn't work out for her. She still carries all of her abilities but no longer has any pressure to fulfill anything in the future on father's behalf. She's lucky.

Over the years of our childhood she was just around more than any other of my siblings and typically hung around me like a leech. It drove me insane but eventually I just got used to her being there. She's the only one of my siblings that I actually see as such.

"How was your job?" She asks, snapping me out of my brooding.

"Meh," I offer, still fuming from her recklessness. I can't believe her. I can't believe her.

Pip.

I knew this was practically un-avoidable if we were going to come back to this town of all places, but it's one of the only places on the surface I've ever spent time at well enough to be familiar with. It's a small town, ridiculously small, and eventually, the thought of running into the shadow from my childhood would be unavoidable. I knew that. One we arrived it came down to the simple choice of which one of us would get a job and which one would go to school to keep up appearances. Lucy leapt at the chance to have something that slightly resembled some kind of normalcy and because of my appearance and height we both agreed I'd pass for some eighteen or nineteen-year old.

I knew he'd probably still be in South Park. Part of me hoped he'd have moved away, back to England or something, but apparently I wasn't that lucky. Lucy had also seemed to not remember me speaking about him like I had when I was younger, but apparently, I also was not that lucky. And because Lucy is the bitch that she is she just _had _to go find this kid. I knew I shouldn't have let her enroll herself into school. She probably hacked the system and purposely put herself into his class even though she's a year younger and should be in tenth grade instead of eleventh.

Dammit all.

"You don't have one yet, do you?" Oh right. The job question.

What I wasn't planning on telling her was that I didn't, in fact, get a job because I'm the fucking Anti-Christ and there is no way I'm doing that lowly human shit. I groan angrily.

"Did you even _look_?" She chides me, frowning.

"No, of course I didn't," I snap bitterly. Lucy huffs, crossing her arms.

I turn off down the road and into the apartment complex. It's not anything super fancy or nice but with the magic-Satanic-endless-money-untraceable-credit-cards I stole from daddy-dearest before our departure it was just perfect.

We're on the third floor out of four with a two bedroom, two bathroom apartment with a balcony, washer-drier, and kitchenette. Lucy stumbles in with her backpack, looking unusually tired, and immediately sulks off to her room.

A few minutes later the overpowering scent of many different candles being lit and the faint noise of depressing goth music drift from her door into the living room as I flick through channels and I growl under my breath.

She just had to go and say something.

Lucy might have just compromised everything.


End file.
